


Likes and Dislikes

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Astraphobia, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 00:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's mental list of "What Castiel likes and dislikes as a human" is constantly growing, being changed and added to nearly every day as Castiel tries new things. But they're not all good experiences, especially when "thunderstorms" is added under this 'dislike' category.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Likes and Dislikes

It’s been a long process—Cas becoming human—but Sam feels that Castiel learning about himself will be a lifelong one.

Just this past week, they’ve discovered that Castiel only likes his coffee black, he’s allergic to pollen, he likes a stiff mattress and the room cold, he dislikes freezer waffles, marmalades, grapefruits, and the sound of nails on a chalkboard.

Well, Sam doesn’t fault him at all for that last one.

It’s a bit of an adventure, really, and Sam’s been enjoying every minute of it. He loves seeing Cas’ face scrunch up and his eyes squint when he tries a new food and hates it. He loves seeing Cas’ eyes light up and a smile grace his lips when he finds something he loves, a new interest, a hobby he wants to try someday.

Sam’s all for it and puts forth a lot of effort to find new things for Castiel to try, keeping a mental list of what is good and what is bad, slowly solidifying Castiel’s nature as a human, now that he’s allowed it.

So far his mental list includes but not exclusive to:

_'Castiel, age: mortally 39, actually six million and twelve, gender: decidedly male (after consideration)_

_Likes:_

  * _coffee (not tea), beer (light), alcohol in general_
  * _visiting tourist attractions (and taking pictures)_
  * _selfies (and sending them to Sam and Dean)_
  * _firm mattresses, a thick comforter, a cold room, a fan going for white noise_
  * _cats and other small fluffy lap-animals_
  * _flowers (either growing them or receiving them)_
  * _cuddling, holding Sam’s hand, having his hair played with_



_Dislikes:_

  * _Eggo Waffles (likes waffles freshly made)_
  * _~~peach/apricot/~~ any kind of marmalade_
  * _grapefruits (too sour)_
  * _nails on a chalkboard (duh)_
  * _hangovers (also duh)_
  * _rude people (triple duh)_
  * _pollution and littering_
  * _the sound of the alarm clock_
  * _the sight of Sam injured (but don’t try to hide it)’_



And unfortunately, tonight, Sam has to add another bullet point to the second list.

  * _thunderstorms_



The night started out so peaceful, with the gentle sound of the rain beating against the roof of the bunker making up for the silence that usually occupies it. Sam holes himself up on the couch, determined to do nothing other than catch up on learning mythologies to be better prepared for hunts and to familiarize himself with the well-done work of the Men of Letters.

After about an hour, just as the thunder started cracking and the sky outside lit up with signs of lightning, Dean decided to brave the storm to go to the bar in town for a drink—and maybe more, Sam suspects—but Castiel is still nowhere to be seen. Sam figures he’s just lounging about somewhere, maybe watching something in the weird room with the television or in the kitchen or maybe reading in his bedroom.

Castiel usually takes advantage of Dean’s absence and emerges to touch, kiss, and cuddle Sam out in the open of the bunker, but Sam doesn’t think anything strange of the lack of a certain new human in the vicinity.

That is, until there’s a large clap of thunder and there’s a small crashing noise coming from down the hall… from Castiel’s bedroom.

Sam’s up from the couch almost immediately, book spread out over the arm of the leather couch and ignored as he takes quick strides towards the bedrooms. Castiel’s room is furthest, so Sam hears another whiplash of thunder and a small sound—something too quiet to discern from all the way from the hallway—forcing him to quicken his footsteps.

"Cas?" Sam asks, knocking on the cracked open heavy door with two fingers to be polite. "Cas, you in there?"

There’s no response, but Sam sees pieces of glass littered on the floor from between the two inches of space between the door and the frame. Is Cas hurt? In trouble?

"I’m coming in," Sam announces, just in case.

The room is empty, no sign of Castiel other than the broken drinking glass on the linoleum and his meager personal possessions that line some shelves on the walls. Sam looks around briefly, wondering if Castiel quickly made it out the door and somewhere else before he got there.

Another sound of thundering and flash of lightning comes a whimpering sound from the closet. Sam stares at it for a moment, taking a few steps across the room before wrenching the door open, not believing his eyes.

The man in question is sitting on the floor, stowed underneath Castiel’s newly thrifted clothing, head ducked between his knees as he tries to hide himself. He’s shaking tremendously, and flinches when the thunder strikes again.

It’s obvious that Castiel is afraid, and it’s even more obvious that he’s afraid of the storm raging outside right now. Sam doesn’t know what to do in this situation, never having had a fear so simple like this. Instinctually, he wants to gather his love into his arms and keep him safe from it all, but how?

"Will you come out?" Sam asks, thinking about coaxing his boyfriend into emerging from the closet. Castiel shakes his head vehemently, unwilling to look up from his knees. Sighing, Sam kneels before him, trying again. "We can go cuddle in my bed, or in the library where there’s no windows…?" he offers.

Still, Castiel shakes his head and is still shaking it back and forth as Sam leaves the room again.

He works quickly, gathering supplies from around the bunker, but mainly from the bedrooms and the map room. He doesn’t want to leave Castiel alone with the storm for too long, curled up in his own closet and living the embodiment of fear and phobia. Every sound of thunder reminds him go to faster.

Sam returns to the room, seeing that Castiel hasn’t moved whatsoever from his spot in the closet except for a sad attempt at pulling the door closed again.

"Sam to the rescue," he says with a lopsided smile, holding up his grocery bag full of items, hoping that he actually _can_ help Castiel with the fear of the situation.

Cas’ eyes widen considerably when Sam actually joins him in the closet, folding his long legs in as close as he can as he seats himself next to his boyfriend and pulls the door closed behind them. The closet grows dark, so Sam feels around in his plastic bag for the first item.

Sam pulls out one of his hoodies, worn thin from wear but one he knows smells like himself—one of Castiel’s more favorable things to wear in the comfort and privacy of his own room. He holds it out to Castiel, pressing it into his hands and it seems that Cas is able to identify it from just feeling it, as he soon hears the soft ruffling sounds of the man pulling it over his head without another word.

Next Sam pulls out a pair of large headphones and an mp3 player, courtesy of Dean’s room—hey, what the man doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Sam feels around for Castiel, hand landing on his shoulder before sliding up to cup his jaw. Cas leans into the touch and stays still as Sam finagles the headset over his ears.

"Oh," Castiel says, words coming out like a contented sigh. Sam turned on some low, classic rock, a playlist of Dean’s that’s titled "Ballads" with the volume up enough to drown out the thunder. They’re soothing to Sam, or at least remind him of long drives in the Impala across the US, and he hopes that they have a similar effect on the ex-angel.

Sam holds him close in the dark, one hand rubbing small circles across his shoulders as the other lays interwoven with one of Castiel’s hands. His shivering and shaking lessens over the course of ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and Sam pulls him closer as he feels Castiel’s head brush his shoulder.

And they weather the storm together, just like that.

In a few hours, Sam’s legs are asleep but he hears that the storm has come to a lull, even the rain has let up quite a lot. Castiel is almost dozing on his shoulder, and it hurts to have to move him, but Sam gets them both up and out of the closet, relocating to Castiel’s bed a few feet away. He wears the headphones for the rest of the night, ‘just in case,’ and Sam holds him closer than ever, adding again to his mental list of Cas.

_Likes:_

  * _Dean’s ‘Ballads’ playlist_



**Author's Note:**

> written for a prompt, find me on Tumblr @ GhostGarrison


End file.
